


The Lament for Icarus

by dragonagemage



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Multi, NOT Newmann, Self-Esteem Issues, Things Get Dark(TM), This is an AU, a writing experiment really, basically Newt/OC/Hermann, characters coping with some mental health issues, characters portrayed making seriously bad decisions, dark themes, drama for the sake of drama, not sure where I am going with this, self-indulgent writing experiment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 16:22:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13930782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonagemage/pseuds/dragonagemage
Summary: Alone was the one thing Newton didn't want to be. It was also the only thing he had ever been. He realized too late he was prepared to burn for a little warmth. He wasn't sure he cared. Moths ought to learn to love the dark.Hermann spent his life believing there were certain things he would not stand for. He discovered how wrong he was. Promises were lies, he knew this. What he didn't know is how much they could hurt. What he had yet to discover is how much lower he could sink. Not much, he suspected. Yet, he was wrong before.There is a choice to be made, one she isn't sure she can make.





	1. The Things You Can't Fight

**Author's Note:**

> An idea that's been around for years, which I finally decided to get out of my system before the second movie comes out. It can be considered an AU, since it took form before I knew Vanessa existed, as she wasn't mentioned in the movie. It needs to be mentioned that I love Vanessa, and this story is in no way an expression of dislike for her character, or any of the ships that include her. I simply had no idea she existed when this story was taking form. Another reason why this is more of an AU, aside from the presence of OCs, is that it's mostly headcanon. This story is more of an experiment than anything else, I want to explore these characters, or at least my interpretation of them, and flesh out the idea which has been around for ages but I never got around to organizing and properly writing it. The story will, at times, deal with certain darker themes, self-doubt, self-esteem issues, etc. Thank you for reading.

The calming, monotonous sound of chalk on the blackboard was entirely drowned out by what Newton had the gall to call "music." Hermann had to pour all his willpower into not snapping the piece of chalk in his hand in half. The thing had enough growling to qualify for a zoo, and the aggressive combination of drums and guitar aggravated his headache magnificently. He pressed his lips together, doing all he could to keep his expression _somewhat_ neutral. The numbers on the blackboard grew noticeably thicker as he fought to keep his composure. Small pieces of chalk began to crumble under the pressure. Hermann took a deep breath through his nose.  
Anything. Think of anything else.  
As if such a thing as _thinking _was possible with this pandemonium.__  
Finally, he spat through his teeth:  
"Did you hear about that meeting scheduled for today, Newton?"  
Hermann didn't have to look to know exactly what was going on; he'd seen it a hundred times before.  
Newton scrunched his face into an expression of absolute confusion, uttered a very eloquent "Huhh?" which clearly told of his nonexistent manners, then proceeded to peel one of the blue-stained gloves off, and turned the dial - or whatever it was - on his infernal machine.  
The level of noise decreased.  
Success. Hermann silently thanked the heavens. Now if only the conversation with Dr. Geiszler was any less aggravating then his music.  
"The meeting, Newton," he repeated, trying and failing to keep his displeasure out of his voice. "The one where they decide the future of PPDC."  
Newton frowned, then replaced his glove, grabbed the stained scalpel, and resumed cutting the kaiju tissue sample.  
Hermann tried not to notice the blue which splashed onto the floor on _his side_ of the lab, and failed. His eyes followed the thin trail of kaiju mucus which dripped from the tray onto the floor.  
"Ah, that," Newton replied casually, carving the sample with renewed vigor. "They'll decide something or other, cut our funding further as they always do, and leave us alone," he shrugged.  
Both bitterness and hope mixed in his words, and Hermann found he agreed with Newton, which was a rare occasion.  
"They _could_ end the Jaeger program," Hermann suggested carefully.  
"Nah," Newton replied, gesturing towards the organized chaos of their shabby shared space with the scalpel still in hand. "They need us. They still do. Who else is gonna tell them the exact amount of exposure to air the tissue can withstand before it begins breaking apart..."  
Hermann didn't listen. Newton was prone to highly technical rants and there was very little that interested Hermann _less_. He had initiated conversation only to get a reprieve, however brief, from whatever infernal cacophony Newton decided to call music that day. However, the new possibility, which he himself had put into words only moments prior, set as an uncomfortable chill in his bones.  
The meeting was scheduled today and there _was_ a very high possibility that they didn't, in fact, need them.

Marshal Stacker Pentecost stood in the center of the conference room, his back perfectly straight, his face perfectly neutral. Numerous screens cast a cold, blue light over everything, the faces on them so impassive, as if they weren't deciding the future of the Jaeger program, the lives of so many, maybe even the lives of all.  
His own career, that he could let go, despite the years of work and sacrifice. But the lives he _knew_ would be lost, needlessly lost, if they ended the Jaeger program...that was something he could not let go.  
The wall they were building was not enough. And without Jaegers, there would be no one defending the millions of innocent lives once the Kaiju eventually _do_ break through. And they will. Stacker Pentecost valued his pride much less then the lives of those he was protecting. He steeled himself for their final decision, perfectly prepared to insist. To bargain. To say whatever it takes to protect those people whose lives depended on the decision that wasn't his to make.  
"We've...considered your words, Marshal." One of them spoke. The perfect embodiment of uncaring cold in an expensive suit, Pentecost thought. These people knew nothing of sacrifice. They did not have to make the decisions he was making every day. They dealt with numbers. Ultimately, everyone was just a number to them.  
"We are sympathetic, of course. But you must understand - the Jaeger program is a tremendous drain on resources. The resources we simply cannot commit anymore."  
Pentecost swallowed, disappointment and ire swelling in his chest; only the years of experience enabled him to remain expressionless. They would cast all those innocent lives away - for what? Just as he was about to reply, one of them spoke again.  
"However, we have carefully considered your request. In the light of your...accomplishments, we can offer you this: the Jaeger program will continue for a limited time, and under careful observation of our advisor."  
Pentecost opened his mouth - he had several things to say: the "accomplishments" they so arrogantly mentioned were those of his pilots, the men and women who fought and died for them. His intentions were, however, taken the wrong way.  
"Do not misunderstand, Marshal. This is not a point open for discussion. The liaison will carefully oversee the operation of the program. Any funding needs to be approved. The files have been forwarded. She is on her way as we speak. Have a pleasant day."  
The screens went dark, leaving Pentecost to process the information.  
_'She is on her way as we speak.'_ So the decision was made long before the meeting actually took place. They didn't even grant him the basic courtesy of _pretending_ he had a say in anything. That any of his people had a say in anything.  
He slowly breathed out. This, he could deal with. They didn't shut the entire program down. If it helped save lives, he could deal with one lapdog. As overpowered as that lapdog may be.  
_'She is on her way as we speak.'_  
Pentecost straightened his uniform.  
Time to meet his new advisor.

Tendo stared at the screen as if it might bite him, a half-cold cup of coffee held loosely in his fingers. He'd usually never let them get that cold, but what he was reading required his full attention.  
" _Highest level_ clearance?"  
He cast a disbelieving look at the technician hovering at his left elbow. The man shrugged, not even pretending not to have read the sensitive information over his shoulder.  
"Everything short of piloting a Jaeger," he joked.  
It was an exaggeration, but only a mild one. This "advisor" will have clearance to stick their nose in nearly anything. His gaze returned to the lines of text.  
Of course he knew they were getting an "advisor." There were very few things Tendo Choi did _not_ know. It was his job to know them.  
And this...this spelled trouble.  
The last few weeks before the Jaeger program is shut down and the world collectively goes to Hell, and they were to spend them under the watchful gaze of some corporate lapdog.  
"...approves any and all funding..." he muttered absent-mindedly. He gripped his cup of coffee tighter, suddenly painfully aware that it was going cold.  
"...well, fuck."  



	2. Eye of the Hurricane

"Hermann, dude, are you coming?"  
For the sixth time, Hermann did his best to ignore Newton's infuriating voice and focus on his equations.  
"Absolutely not!" he snapped, ignoring the screech of chalk against the blackboard as it protested the energy which he poured into his calculations. "I refuse to bow to corporate toadies however important they imagine themselves to be."  
He tried to control his breathing in a futile attempt to calm down. An uneducated layman to approve or deny _his_ funding! Someone who was likely unable to understand even the basics of his work, much less grasp its importance, to make such judgments. Preposterous!  
Oblivious to his anger, Newton grabbed his jacket.  
"Look, if you wanna stay in here with your... your chalk dust, and be boring, then fine. All I am saying is, you know, know the enemy, right? Be prepared."  
Hermann refused to acknowledge that by replying.  
After waiting for a few more seconds and receiving nothing but silence, Newton shrugged and - _finally_ \- left Hermann to his work.  
  
The handful of commanding officers gathered close to the entrance, work around them continuing as always. The hall was echoing with voices in several languages, and the clatter of machinery, but the small circle was deathly silent. It consisted of Marshal Pentecost, Mako Mori, Tendo Choi, Hercules Hansen, Raleigh Beckett, and several other Jaeger pilots. The K-Science officer was the last to arrive.  
Pentecost observed the scientist's disheveled appearance with disapproval.  
"I take it doctor Gottlieb is on his way?" he asked.  
"I, uh, no. He...refused to come. Sir."  
Stacker raised an eyebrow, but it was too late to argue. The great doors opened, letting in the cold, the rain, the scent of motor oil and sea salt, and several soldiers following their new advisor.

She was tall, clad in a grey business suit, with dark brown hair tied carefully back, and steel-gray eyes which seemed equally as cold. When she approached, Stacker Pentecost introduced himself, and she accepted his outstretched hand in a firm handshake.  
"It is a pleasure to welcome you to the Shatterdome, doctor Williams. Allow me to introduce the key personnel."  
She was met with a wall of cold.  
Most who managed to keep their expressions neutral did so out of respect for the Marshal. Those who didn't, regarded her with open animosity. Chuck Hansen went as far as to refuse to shake her hand, caving in only when he met the Marshal's warning glare.

Newton wasn't sure what to think. Offering his hand, he looked up to meet her cold gray eyes, and suddenly he was certain he knew how his experiments must feel. Or rather, how they would be feeling, if they weren't dead things about to be taken apart by his scalpel. He suppressed a shudder when her hand firmly closed around his.  
Her light, polite smile did not reach her eyes. Newton was used to everyone basically towering over him, but feeling this _insignificant_ , that was new.  
Marshal Pentecost introduced him as doctor Geiszler, a K-Science officer. It sounded as foreign as always. It made one almost form a false impression that he _belonged_ somewhere.  
"Uh, call me Newt," he managed, and there it was, for the fraction of a second, he was certain her smile turned almost genuine.  
"Only if you call me Alice."  
He smiled in return, more out of habit then conscious intention. She spoke.  
"So, you study Kaiju?"  
He looked up, surprised at her interest.  
"I uh, yeah. With...with a colleague. Biology. The interesting part."  
Marshal Pentecost intervened, his disapproving gaze fixed on Newton.  
"Doctor Gottlieb is in charge of statistics. His field is mathematics. He was, unfortunately... not able to attend."  
Alice Williams looked up, the polite, reserved smile back on her lips.  
"How interesting. Thank you, Marshal. Of course, I am very sorry to interrupt anyone's work. I am sure I will meet with doctor Gottlieb at a time more convenient for him."  
Newton made a sound.  
"I can show you the lab right now."  
He ignored the Marshal's angry glare.  
She'd shown an interest in his work, and if he could in some way contribute to his funding _not_ being cut - for example by explaining to her how cool kaiju actually are - he would take that chance.  
She was looking at him, eyebrows slightly raised .  
"Are you certain, doctor Geiszler? I would not wish to impose-"  
"Yeah, I am - call me Newt, really - we can go right now."  
She glanced at Pentecost.  
"If it's alright with you, Marshal-?"  
His lips pressed into a thin line, Pentecost nodded.  
She smiled a tight-lipped smile in return, offering in a slightly too-sweet voice, "the assessment has to start somewhere, after all."  
Newton could see the muscle in Pentecost's jaw twitch.  
She looked around before addressing everyone gathered.  
"Thank you for taking the time to greet me. I am extremely grateful for the welcome I've received, and I am looking forward to working with you for the benefit of our common cause."  
Her smile was once more reminiscent of the smile of a marble statue, devoid of any true warmth or emotion.  
The meeting concluded, the group started breaking apart, some leaving with muttered pleasantries and some in icy silence. The last to leave were Marshal Pentecost and Mako Mori, with a handshake and a list of polite, official parting remarks one could probably find printed in a desk drawer somewhere.  
Finally, Newt was left alone with her. He offered a shaky smile.  
"Well, shall we?"  
He turned on his heel with faked confidence, leading her through the hallways to K-Science.  
Ten minutes after her arrival, he was leading the dreaded new advisor to their lab.  
Hermann was going to kill him.  



	3. The Threads of Gossamer

While he was leading the new advisor through the poorly lit and overcrowded metal hallways, Newton's mind was racing. It always did when there was someone _new_ around, someone he had yet to disappoint. This, however, was different. So many other things were hanging in the balance. He would have tried to break the silence, but with the dozens of workers and technicians around them, moving equipment and machinery, it was futile. Thankfully, as they approached K-Science, the hallways cleared.  
The door to the lab was half-open, and Hermann was still in front of his blackboard, muttering solutions to himself. Newton pushed the door open and smiled the widest, friendliest smile he could muster.  
"Hermann! Let me introduce doctor Williams. Our new advisor."  
Hermann Gottlieb froze momentarily, gripping his cane. He looked as if he were trying to compose himself. Newton briefly wondered whether he would ignore them, or whether he would grab the nearest thing and throw it his way. Hermann had amazingly good aim.  
Both his fears were dispelled as Hermann spoke, his words quiet and sharp.  
"Newton, I asked you to refer to me by my title..."  
His lips were pressed into a thin line. Finally, he looked up at the advisor. She offered a smile, only a fraction more sincere than the marble-statue one Newton had witnessed shortly before.  
"Doctor Gottlieb. I was briefly informed about your work. Only briefly, unfortunately. It is an honor."  
She approached him with confident steps, offering her hand.  
"Alice Williams."  
Newton noticed Hermann's shoulders relax, if only slightly, when she addressed him using his title. He accepted her hand.  
Newton suddenly felt entirely unwanted there.  
Alice looked to the blackboard, which was reaching the ceiling, entirely covered in Hermann's writing.  
"This looks like impressive work, dr. Gottlieb."  
Her eyes narrowed as she studied the equations. It did not pass unnoticed by Hermann.  
"Certainly, you have come to see the quality of our work, yes?"  
Her eyes returned to his, slightly surprised.  
"I will not pretend to be anywhere near your level of expertise, doctor. In fact, probably quite the opposite, but..."  
She looked around the lab, her expression unreadable.  
"This is all you've been given?"  
Her question was obviously misinterpreted by Hermann.  
"Yes. You see, K-Science plays an absolutely crucial part in defeating the kaiju. Without these calculations, our pilots wouldn't know when or how to strike, the toxicity spread would be virtually unknown-" he was gesturing along with his vehement defense of their need for space and resources.  
"Exactly. One of the most important divisions...and this is all you get."  
Finally, Hermann recognized the displeasure in her tone.  
Newton, inadvertently, stopped paying attention. Instead he just observed them. The new advisor in her tailored, spotless suit, with her carefully combed hair and her reserved expression; opposite of her, Hermann in his similarly carefully assembled wardrobe, with his insistence on politeness and titles. Suddenly, Newton felt acutely aware of his disheveled hair and creased shirt, along with his carelessly rolled up sleeves and his inability to hold a conversation for more than five minutes without boring or offending his conversation partner.  
When he started paying attention again, Hermann and Alice were silent, looking at each-other as if engaged in a particularly interesting game of chess where someone made a highly unexpected move.  
Newton found chess incredibly boring. It was just not how the world worked, with all the rules and limitations. The world was wonderful, and unpredictable, and waiting to be discovered. Not predetermined with a rigid set of rules. Unfortunately, not many agreed with his worldview - particularly not Hermann, with his complex formulas and all his horizons narrowed into equations, dust, and chalk. He could predict in detail what would most likely happen, and then never go out and experience it.  
"I can show you what I'm working on right now," Newton broke the - for him - uncomfortable silence, looking up at Alice. "Absolutely fascinating on an, uh, cellular level, and absolutely crucial for our understanding of the...of the kaiju," he barely paused for breath, offering the widest smile. "I assure you it's the most revolutionary thing you've seen! However, if _Hermann's_ work was to be defunded-"  
"Geiszler!"  
Newton ignored Hermann's angry warning, instead approaching the new advisor and, grasping her elbow, moved to lead her to his section of the lab, strewn with dissection tables filled with various preserved kaiju remains. Hermann observed, gripping his cane with an expression of insulted rage, but Alice seemed merely curious. She looked at the various samples Newton doubtlessly intended to explain in detail. However, a sound at the door interrupted the biologist, and he looked up to see two workers pushing a large tank containing what could only be described as kaiju brain fragments, past the door and down the hallway.  
"No! Hey! HEY!"  
He released Alice and rushed to the door, obviously intending to solve the unauthorized relocation, leaving Alice and Hermann alone.  
She turned to the mathematician with a small, amused smile. His gaze lingered on the door, with an expression of displeasure on his face.  
"I apologize for his behaviour," he said, turning to face her, his grip on his cane slightly loosening, now that the object of his disapproval was out of earshot.  
"Oh, no need, doctor Gottlieb. Though I am sure the difference in approach yields some arguments."  
"That is certainly one way to put it," he muttered, and she chuckled.  
The ice initially between them seemed to gradually be melting away.  
  
She wasn't what Hermann had expected. She certainly seemed less intent on shutting down the Jaeger program than he feared. Or at the very least, she was exceedingly polite about it.  
She looked to the blackboard covered in his handwriting with an expression of polite interest.  
"Would you care to explain some of your work to me, doctor Gottlieb? If it would not take too much of your time, I mean."  
Hermann looked at her, trying to gauge her intentions. She simply smiled.  
  
In broad strokes, he covered the basics, and then the foundations of his newest theory concerning the frequency of kaiju attacks.  
She seemed interested, and genuinely so. He would have hoped that, if that was an assessment, her interest indicated that he would be allowed to continue his work. However, in explaining his latest discoveries, he briefly forgot what Alice Williams' function at the Shatterdome was.  
It was rare for Hermann to talk to someone who'd actually _listen_ to him instead of trying to drown his words out with irritating rock music. He almost missed his teaching days. But the world would not save itself. And if ensuring the continued survival of humanity included putting up with an insufferable embodiment of chaos that was Newton Geiszler, Hermann would learn to cope with that. It _was_ good to have someone willing to listen, though.  
So, when the loud clatter of metal announced the return of the aforementioned biologist, Hermann paused, suppressing the mounting annoyance.  
Alice offered him an apologetic smile.  
"Perhaps we can continue this at a later time, doctor Gottlieb. I would love to hear more when - and if - you find the time."  
It sounded like her motivation was her personal interest in his work, and not the official evaluation of it. With an inward sigh, Hermann willingly let himself be deceived.  
Ignoring the biologist, he smiled, albeit slightly uncertainly.  
"I would prefer it if you called me Hermann."  
Alice smiled brightly, then looked up when a soft "excuse me" from the doorway interrupted them.  
Mako Mori stood there, watching the new advisor with an expression of somewhat forced politeness, clutching a notepad in her hands.  
"I am to show you to your new quarters, doctor Williams."  
"Oh," the new advisor replied, her carefully constructed facade, reserved for business, quickly returning. "If you'll excuse me."  
She paused at the door.  
"Thank you for your time. It was an honor meeting you both. Have a great day."  
With that, she was gone.  
Newton stared after her for several moments, before turning to Hermann.  
" _I would prefer it if you called me Hermann_. What the hell, dude?"


	4. To Play with Fire

When Newton saw her next, it was while she was balancing a tray of bland food in her hands, trying to avoid the dinnertime rush - much like him. He'd forgotten to eat for about a day, judging from the pain in his stomach and the darkening sky outside (his newest experiment was beyond fascinating), so the tiny part of him that was some sort of a rational adult made him seek something more substantial than energy bars and the overwhelming amount of coffee. He hated and loved the crowds at the same time; while there, he felt like he belonged, like he was part of something. But when he'd return to his room, alone, under the glare of the single neon light, he was soon reminded that all those people had _someone_ , had family, had friends, and that he had no one. He knew it was only right, he knew it wasn't...easy, to like him. But it hurt all the same. And Newton really, really hated loneliness.  
When he saw that she took a seat at the one empty table alone, Newton would have loved to say he approached her because he was trying to be nice, trying to be friendly. He would have liked to be able to say he did so out of altruism. The truth was, he did it because that lonely, ravenous part of him saw a chance he didn't yet ruin.  
"Is this...uh, seat taken?"  
She looked up, her thoughts giving way to the brief flash of surprise in her eyes, before a warm smile blossomed on her face.  
"No. Please, sit down. Join me."  
He did so, placing his tray on the table, wondering for a second whether she judged his choice of food. It was ridiculous. Newton was aware of his tendency to often worry about a lot of things that were ridiculous. And to be completely oblivious to the things that actually _mattered_. He forced a smile.  
"A...nice day we're having, huh?" he inwardly cringed at his choice of words as soon as they left his lips. He was suddenly painfully aware of the merciless whips of rain on the windows, and the slicing wind outside that all but prevented aircraft from landing.  
_Really Newt? Really?_  
Alice, however, looked up at him with a slight smile of amusement.  
"Well..."  
He grimaced.  
"Okay that wasn't one of my brightest conversation starters. I'm told I could, uh... improve somewhat in my social...interactions. I'm usually more brilliant than that, I swear." He raised an eyebrow in mock-confidence.  
That earned him a chuckle.  
"I have no doubt about that, doct..." she looked at his eyes briefly, and smiled. "Um. Newt."  
False bravado gone, he looked at her with genuine surprise, the threads of conversation slipping right through his fingers. Working with Hermann, as well as in general, he was so used to biting comments that the lack of disdain in her voice stopped him in his tracks.  
She was apparently entirely oblivious to that; her warm smile didn't falter as she spoke.  
"Why don't you tell me about your work? If you're willing that is. You didn't really get an opportunity before."  
She looked apologetic.  
He pulled himself together. This was something he could work with.  
"Kaiju, well they are..." at a loss for where to start - there was _so_ much to tell - he laughed; "...so freaking cool, man."  
He expected a frown of disapproval to be the reaction to his attempt at humor; it was to be expected in a world where kaiju caused widespread destruction. Not everyone saw things as he did; they simply didn't see them as fascinating wonders of biology, however deadly. They saw them as monsters. They didn't understand them. His mind registered the irony of the fact that he himself felt as if he could understand them much better than most could. There was something to be said for being an outsider in a world that didn't want you. But he was a biologist, not a philosopher. Contemplating such things was Hermann's domain, however vehemently the mathematician denied it. Newt was more the sort to take things in stride and live with them.  
However, looking up, he was surprised once again at the complete absence of the expected frown, or any whatsoever look of disdain. Instead, he was met with quiet laughter and seemingly genuine enthusiasm in her eyes.  
So he explained his work as best he could, in sentences he would never say to himself, but not many understood his line of thought, or cared to understand it. He tried to keep the too-long, jumbled up sentences to a minimum, with only partial success. He tried to force his usually chaotic ideas, which would make perfect sense to him, into something that would also make sense to someone else. He wasn't sure how successful he was.  
The need to be understood, for the importance of his work to be understood, was prevalent. He gestured, outlined the most important things, unconcerned with whatever looks he may or may not be getting (Alice seemed not to care either), his meal absolutely forgotten and going cold as he snatched up his fork and a carton of milk to illustrate a point about kaiju bone alignment.  
All the while, Alice listened in attentive silence, only stopping him to ask a question or two about something he failed to explain well in his eagerness to get to the next important thing - and everything about kaiju was important.  
When he looked up, pausing his explanation of the effects of kaiju blue on the local wildlife, he noticed the hall was nearly empty.  
Suddenly he remembered himself, he remembered that the person sitting across from him was the advisor, and he realized that he probably took more than an hour of her time barely pausing to breathe as he bombarded her with highly technical information which - probably - didn't interest her in the least.  
Newton looked around with mounting shame.  
"Oh."  
He blinked, perfectly ready to face the wall of cold, or as ready as one can be to have the thing they care about ridiculed. If anything, Newton had experience with that. He reminded himself of all the things he usually reminded himself of, to steel himself: it wasn't anyone's fault, really; he didn't make a whole lot of sense. People were just different. It wouldn't be her fault, and it wouldn't be his.  
He believed the last part a little bit less with every friendship that fell to pieces.  
"Newt?"  
Torn from his thoughts, his eyes focused on her. There was no frown, no disdain. There was a smile however, and Newton didn't know what to do with that.  
"I, uh...what?"  
"I said thank you."  
He blinked.  
"You're, uh, welcome?"  
She picked up her own fork and neatly placed it onto the tray, then snatched a butter knife from the pile he left behind in his attempt to explain how kaiju moved, and added it to her tray too.  
"Yeah, I'm afraid this thigh bone will have to go," she commented with humor in her voice.  
He realized he had snatched up things from her tray as well, too absorbed in explaining the kaiju to notice or care for etiquette.  
"And I'll be taking this back as well."  
She picked up the milk carton, and flashed him a brilliant smile.  
"It is absolutely your fault that now I will not be leaving the lab while you work, you know. Just a heads-up. If you wanted me to leave your experiments alone you should have made them seem boring."  
She was joking, that much he could tell, but there was a note of sincerity in her voice that caught him entirely unprepared.  
"Well I...um," he tried pulling himself together. "You're very welcome to come join me any time you want. My experiments are, uh, your experiments." He tried smiling.  
She laughed.  
"Yeah, I don't think that's a saying, but it totally should be."  
Picking up her tray, she stood up, and smiled at him warmly.  
"Thank you. Today was...enlightening. See you around, Newt."  
"Yeah, I'll, uh...see you around."  
It didn't occur to him that, since he started explaining his work, the official and cold veneer of advisor Williams didn't surface once. Simultaneously, it _just_ occurred to him that he had a thousand questions about her, and he failed to ask even one.  



	5. K-Day

Advisor Williams closed the door carefully behind her, then pressed her back against it and sighed, closing her eyes and allowing herself to be just _Alice_ again.  
Whoever 'Alice' was. She wasn't...entirely sure anymore.

No. No, no, no.

Do not think about it.

And do not let yourself get attached.

Do not think more of it than it was.

_You leave only ashes behind you everywhere you go, Alice._

The words from long ago felt suddenly too real to her, too real for her to breathe.  
She hurriedly shrugged off the jacket of her suit, leaving it draped over a chair, and walked across the small room to her desk. She grabbed several folders from a pile there like a lifeline, inspecting the reports as she walked over to the narrow bed.

She would have continued to work, if the exhaustion didn't blur the letters in front of her.  
Yet, she knew that she likely wouldn't sleep.

It was always easier when she traveled somewhere new, and she hated to think of it as _running_ , but that was what it was.  
Some small, tiny part of her mind was well aware of that, as well as aware of the fact that she could not run from the things she carried with her.  
Wherever she went, the air would before long start to taste like ashes.  
Curled on her bed, the reports in her hands forgotten, she stared into space and she could, as always, see it all too clearly.  
  
_The still smoldering ashes floating in the air, stinging her eyes; she could feel the tears that etched twin trails into the ash and soot staining her face. Wherever she looked there was nothing there anymore - piles of debris and burning ruin. The shell of what was once their car, the one they spent countless hours working on together, now resembling a ball of crushed metal, turned over on its side. Ruined concrete crunched under the soles of her new work shoes - she climbed over the pile of planks which was once the neighbors' garage. A nail ripped into her palm, but she wouldn't notice until much later. It felt as if she were moving through water._  
_When she came up to her house, to **their** house, it just...wasn't there. The entire street just wasn't there anymore. Shock gave way to the burning of panic._

_"Jason!!"_

_She knew then, she instinctively knew what her mind yet refused to accept. There was a sound, one that couldn't have come form her. It couldn't have._  
_She couldn't have been laughing._  
_Those couldn't have been her feelings, because underneath the shock and panic, she would have grieved...she would have felt anything but that nothingness. She wouldn't have felt relieved. She wouldn't have felt free._

Swallowing the sinking feeling of dread to where it nestled in her ribcage and refused to leave, Alice pushed the reports away a bit too forcefully and turned around, too tired to even change out of her work clothes.  
She would do that in the morning.

Still, she couldn't sleep.  



	6. All Is Fair

It's been almost two weeks since advisor Williams arrived at the Shatterdome. To be precise, it has been eleven days, and a little over six hours. Hermann sometimes despised how his mind automatically filed away information - as helpful as it was for his job, it also had a good chance of making him seem, at best, unbalanced. So he forced a smile and kept silent as Newton asked her that exact question, looking up from whatever it was he was dissecting on the table, and over his shoulder at her.  
They were at it for nearly an hour now, him slicing and prodding the disgusting thing (a skin sample, was it?) with a variety of tools, and Alice hovering over his shoulder offering theories that had little to do with biology, and much more to do with far-fetched ideas about kaiju communication, or society, or whatever else was closer to her area of expertise. Which, as Hermann learned later, was languages. Sometimes Newton and Alice would trade smiles, as if over a private joke.  
Hermann hated it.  
Alice visited K-science only a few times, and most often it was only in passing. Hermann understood. The Shatterdome had a lot of personnel. She must have been busy.  
But, apparently, on one of those rare occasions that she _did_ find the time, she spends it studying kaiju entrails or god know what else Newton dragged from somewhere, rather than conversing with _him_? Hermann squashed the ugly thing that immediately reared its head, the thing that absolutely _wasn't_ resentment and _couldn't have been_ jealousy. No, Hermann knew better than that. He knew better than to lie to himself about possibilities where there were none; besides, the world was ending. No, it was about the value of his work.  
How did preserved kaiju tissue with with its varied types of slime interest someone more than his formulae? Memories came unbidden, of all the times his work was similarly pushed aside or disregarded, just because it dealt with things universal instead of things particular. Because it was deemed only "theoretical," and "not of immediate use." K-science was one of the rare places where Hermann felt he truly had a purpose, where he felt his work was appreciated, _necessary_. And now, it seemed to be slipping through his fingers for reasons that were utterly, completely out of his control.  
He pressed his lips into a thin line, forcing himself to focus on the page before him, the neat rows of numbers that held no uncertainty whatsoever. Numbers were something one could rely on absolutely. Numbers were something that would never, ever fail; and with careful attention, they left no room for error.  
There was no "maybe" and no "perhaps," and no, absolutely no room for heartache.  
People were fallible. Numbers much less so.

Hermann shook his head, trying to filter out the sudden sound of laughter from Newton's side of the lab, but it pierced through with no effort, settling into his consciousness like lead. Like truth, the kind that you wanted to close your eyes to. Hermann always prided himself on being a practical, logical man. He prided himself on never wanting to close his eyes to the truth, no matter what.  
The truth of how the world worked.  
The truth of what chances they had for winning, or at least surviving.  
The truth of who he was and what he could expect from others.  
Pressing his lips tighter together, he focused on the numbers, letting his mind be drawn back into the comforts of pattern and certainty.

It would not do. The sound of laughter, now long since faded, still weighed on his mind like lead. He didn't have to glance up to know that Newton was still working on whatever the experiment was, or that Alice was still by his side, apparently so very interested in his work. _And not yours_ , added the malicious, unwelcome voice that was Hermann's insecurities. _Why would **anyone** be interested in you?_  
Then, Newton got up, explaining his intention to go and get something he spoke about (Hermann had paid little attention) that he'd forgotten to bring from wherever he'd taken it the last time, and waved for her to wait. His hurried footsteps faded down the hallway.  
Hermann placed the report carefully back on his desk, standing up.  
"Alice?"  
She looked up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. Her dark grey suit jacket was unbuttoned, her identification card clipped to her belt. Like Newton's. Hermann found it harder than usual to force his lips to recall a smile.  
"Would you care to get a cup of coffee with me, after work? Or tea, if you'd prefer. If you have the time, of course. I wouldn't want to impose."  
Surprise flashed briefly across her face. She blinked.  
Hermann carefully maintained an expression of mere polite interest, his tension betrayed only by a faintest, barely noticeable twitch of the corner of his lips.  
Then, Alice smiled.  
"Certainly, I'd love to! Around...eight? I should be done with the paperwork and I can... come by the lab?"  
Hermann's smile widened a fraction, though now it felt much less like a string about to snap.  
"Yes. Of course. That would be...perfect."  
He looked away, acutely aware of her gaze on him.  
The silence that descended was of a tense kind, though not exactly uncomfortable. It was as if there was something that yet had to be said, and neither said anything. Fighting off whatever it was inside him that demanded otherwise, Hermann looked up and met her eyes. It lasted for a few moments, before the sound of footsteps announced Newton's return.  
"I got it!" he said triumphantly, twirling a small, labeled cylinder between gloved fingers. "The sample I took six months ago on..."  
He trailed off, looking up and finally noticing the tense silence. "Yeah, I... I'll be able to show you the similarities as soon as the test results are in on the new sample..."  
Alice blinked, tearing her eyes from Hermann's, and smiled. "I look forward to seeing it. Thanks for showing me your latest project." She patted Newton's arm affectionately. "I have reports waiting for me, though. I'll see you later."  
She walked over to the door, offering Hermann a small smile before leaving, something that Newton missed entirely.  
His attention was already back on his experiments; he wanted to have the results as soon as possible.  
Not only for the sake of his new friendship - as always, he needed something he could work on. It wasn't the best thing for him to be left to his thoughts.  



	7. Bridges

Alice set the second cup wordlessly down onto the edge of Tendo's console before taking a careful sip from her own, earning a grateful look from the J-tech officer as the aroma of coffee slowly filled the air. While his hands couldn't abandon the keys at present, he observed the curling steam above the cup appreciatively for a moment, before returning his gaze to the influx of data on the screen, with a half-smile on his lips.  
"I take it my offering pleases you," Alice joked, watching the chief technician in the blue light of the screens. His smile widened, though he didn't reply, his attention fully on the data.  
She watched him for a while - it seemed to be a delivery mission - as he coordinated teams, until the shipment of Jaeger parts touched down and he finally flipped the switch which transferred control of that particular mission elsewhere.  
"Is there anything you _don't_ do?" Alice asked, only half-joking, her voice laced with disbelief and no small amount of awe.  
Tendo shrugged, finally taking his coffee cup and taking an tentative sip.  
"Very little," he replied. "And that doesn't go on for very long."  
Alice chuckled at the joke, her gaze straying to the screen where rows of rather cryptic numbers rolled past.  
"So what's all that about?"  
Tendo gave her a sideways glance.  
"Is that an official question?"  
Her face fell slightly for the briefest of moments, before her smile returned. Of course he'd ask, and she was aware she shouldn't take it to heart. But, Tendo was one of the very few people who she managed to befriend during her time at the Shatterdome. Because of her role there, their initial interactions were understandably tense, and she was saddened to learn any of that tension remained. Of course, it was unreasonable to expect it not to, but people willing to give the advisor the benefit of the doubt were few and far between. So, willingly or not, she grew to appreciate them. And Tendo Choi was among the first.  
_Careful, Alice._  
Tendo was watching her above the rim of his cup, waiting for an answer.  
"Of course not!" She waved the idea away. "I thought we were past those first few days when you were certain I was planning on writing a scathing report every time I approached you." She smiled."I'm just asking you to complain about your job. You know, social etiquette and all."  
Tendo raised an eyebrow.  
"Good. And here I was afraid that I'd have to go digging around for this thing's instruction manual."  
She gave him a mock-horrified glare at the idea that she might have to deal with the station, at her own request or otherwise, and then offered a teasing smile.  
"You'd just give me a crash-course, what could go wrong?"  
At that, his smile turned into one of genuine amusement.  
"One of the reasons I have this."  
He waved his hand, a rosary wrapped snugly around his wrist. Alice laughed.  
They drank their coffee in comfortable silence, with Tendo keeping an eye on the screen, and redirecting requests as needed.  
"So, what have you been up to? Up to your eyes in paperwork?" he asked casually, forwarding several mission reports with one hand, the half-empty coffee cup loosely grasped in the other.  
"You wouldn't _believe_!" Alice grimaced. "I never imagined shipping containers to be that expensive. Or that sought-after."  
Tendo made an apologetic face. "They _are_ for super-sensitive electronics." She let out a defeated sigh. He continued, in a somewhat more upbeat tone;  
"Well, at the very least you and K-science can now complain together about the inefficiency of our administration."  
She gave him a silent, displeased look.  
Tendo returned his attention to the screen, occasionally giving Alice a sideways glance, as if debating something with himself.  
"By the way, there's a...gathering, tomorrow evening and... Well. Why don't you come?"  
She looked away from the rows of numbers that rolled past on the screen, and focused on him.  
"A gathering?"  
"More like a...party." Tendo grimaced. "In one of the disused warehouses. People need to unwind."  
"And is this sanctioned?" Alice deadpanned.  
He returned her gaze. "The upper levels are...choosing to turn a blind eye. It's good for morale. We are in a war. Besides, I thought we were past those first few days when I was certain you were planning on writing a scathing report every time you approached me. "  
He grinned triumphantly, having used her own words to win the argument. She sighed.  
"And you know about this how?"  
"I...hear things," Tendo said noncommittally. "We have to always be ready for duty, yes, but that doesn't mean you can't go and talk to people for a bit, right?..."  
Alice sighed, pretty certain that Tendo not only heard about, but had a hand in organizing whatever it was. The man knew everyone and everything and, from what she could tell, pretty much played the role of everyone's guardian angel. It must come naturally, Alice mused, with him being there the whole time with the pilots, listening to them before, and after the fights. Having to listen when they were losing, too. The pilots were crucial, they were the ones fighting. But ultimately, Tendo was _their_ last line of defense. Briefly, Alice wondered if anyone was there like that for him, too. His voice ripped her from her thoughts.  
"At least consider it. It will be a chance for people to actually meet you. And not the, you know, advisor."  
_I'm not sure they'd like what they'd see._ Alice shook her head. _Not sure I'd want them to see._  
Unaware of her thoughts, Tendo persisted.  
"Think about it. I promise I'll get Newton and Hermann to come, too. That way there'll be some friendly faces. God knows the entire K-science could use some social interaction. All things kaiju, all the time - can't be good for you."  
Alice laughed, imagining Hermann surrounded by partygoers.  
"I thought that 'all things kaiju, all the time' was how the world worked now. But, anyway, good luck with that," she patted Tendo's shoulder, picking up the now-empty cups. "I appreciate the invitation, though."  
"No kaiju, at least for an evening!" he added, unwilling to accept defeat. "Not if I can help it."  
She smiled, and opted for a swift departure.  



	8. Worse Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags have been updated according to the recent plot development. Just to be on the safe side: please note that this is a work of fiction, and that you should never actually take medication with alcohol, or engage in any of the otherwise potentially dangerous behavior that fictional characters might engage in. Also, please note that relationships portrayed in this work aren't meant to exemplify healthy real-life relationships.

Alice looked into the small, age-stained mirror, cold water dripping off her face.  
_There are worse things than losing sight of a dream._  
_Especially if it isn't **your** dream,_ a mocking, everpresent voice reminded her, that cold and unfeeling part of her that was always there.  
She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Grabbing the towel, she dried her face and ran her fingers through her hair.  


It was just as Alice expected it to be - the rust and disrepair looked surreal under the muted violet lighting, the air filled with the distinct scent of sweat, spilled alcohol, and desperation. It wasn't as bad yet as she suspected it would be later, when people found ways to deal with the accumulated anxiety and fear; those ways being alcohol - if they weren't on duty - spilling their life story to strangers, or ill-fated and thankfully brief affairs.  
Everyone there had a story - a missing parent, or sibling, or spouse; a lost home, a life broken. Even just the too-long shifts and the bone-deep fatigue. Looking at the small groups of people and listening to the snippets of their hushed conversation in passing, she began to see what Tendo meant.  
The workers of the Shatterdome were people from all walks of life, different nations, cultures, and places, all brought together by a common enemy. A common fear. All constantly on edge, and now they could forget their worries and the everpresent threat, for at least a night. In any given moment, the world could go to hell, and _they_ were all all that stood between the world and its destruction. And that hinged on them working together.  
Tonight, there would be no kaiju. There would be just the people, their memories, their joy, their grief, shards of their past broken lives which too many of them clutched too tightly to their chests - all shared. Tendo was right. They _needed_ this.  
Perhaps she did, too.  


 

 

Hermann looked up from his work just in time to see Newton return the small plastic container back into the desk drawer, then down whatever remained in the can of an energy drink sitting on his desk.  
"You know you are not supposed to take them with..."  
"Yeah, yeah," the biologist cut him off, slipping his jacket on. "Thanks, _mom._ "  
He muttered something else under his breath too quietly for the mathematician to hear, but it was doubtlessly another joke at Hermann's expense.  
Hermann swallowed a curse, instead forcing himself to return his eyes to the stack of folders he was organizing. But Newton apparently wasn't done with him.  
"Aren't you going?"  
Newton's voice had all the gentle qualities Hermann would ascribe to construction equipment, and the mathematician felt the already developing headache in his temples magnify, along with mounting annoyance.  
"No," he spat. "Some of us have actual work to do instead of wasting time on frivolous things while the world is ending."  
Newton grinned at him, fishing around his pockets. "The world should be worth saving dude. You gotta work on that."  
Hermann clenched his teeth, resisting the urge to hurl his carefully arranged folders at Newton. That would, however, undo hours of work, and that fact was the only thing stopping him.  
"Besides, Alice is gonna be there," the biologist said, either unaware that he struck a nerve or feigning ignorance to enrage Hermann further.  
Hermann believed the latter to be the case. In an uncharacteristic bout of vengefulness, he calmly replied with: "We did meet up a few times. She's a fascinating person."  
Newton stopped dead in his tracks, rising his eyes to the mathematician. Hermann's gaze was carefully focused on the stack of folders he was rearranging. He arranged the last month's predictions alphabetically instead of by their accuracy, seeing that there wasn't a single miscalculation.  
The biologist fidgeted, and Hermann felt a small amount of satisfaction.  
"I...see. Well. Fine. I'll be off then."  
Newton pocketed his keys.  
"I'll see you later, man."  
His tone was somewhat reserved, and his greeting half-hearted, so when his footsteps faded down the hallway, Hermann was left alone with that faint sense of satisfaction that stemmed from getting back at the everpresent annoyance - especially since Newton Geiszler was otherwise eternally oblivious to the dislike others felt for him. Hermann was, admittedly, also left with a minuscule amount of guilt, which he squashed immediately, because it was the logical thing to do.  
K-science _was_ awfully quiet however, now that Hermann was alone there, everyone but the key personnel having left for the night. And instead of the expected bliss he thought he would find in peace and quiet, Hermann found the silence awfully oppressive, and the solitude, surprisingly, much less enjoyable than he remembered it to be.  


 

 

The contents of some of the most popular bottles Alice wasn't able to even recognize, with their handwritten labels in languages even she couldn't read. Her best guess, based on the the script on the labels and the contents' lack of colouring, was 'vodka', but she wasn't about to put her guesswork to the test. Much like the Shatterdome's skeleton crew, she wasn't planning on drinking, even if her her reasons were neither official restrictions nor empathy.  
She shook her head, willing dark thoughts away, deciding to focus instead on the people around her and what tonight meant for them. She wanted to understand. She wanted to get closer. She wanted to care. It was for the most part the reason she agreed to come.  
Not that she would admit that - even to herself - but she wanted to learn about them. Maybe find something worth fighting for. Something worth defending.  
And she was terribly afraid that she wouldn't. She was afraid that the sight of the ruined streets and the _nothing_ she felt after would be with her forever, seared into the back of her eyelids, always there in dreams, reminding her that _people_ cared about something, and that in that sense _she_ had less in common with the defenders than with the monsters they were fighting.  
Shaking her head briefly, as if that would physically chase the darkness from her thoughts away, she focused on the people around her.  
A pair of workers huddled together in the corner, one showing the other a faded photograph. Nearby, two small groups of people were talking animatedly, bouts of laughter coming from the direction of their table - once a dining hall table, before it broke - its leg was replaced by a carelessly welded piece of metal. Two blonde women she was able to recognize but wasn't able to name shared a bottle of something; one laughed loudly at something the other had said.  
All of it near inaudible over the beat of outdated music, but Alice understood the intention behind it just the same.  
_No kaiju, not tonight._  
She turned to Tendo, who offered her an apologetic smile - his headset still in place even then, and the cup in his hands filled with nothing but sparkling water. He, and a handful of others, could not afford such luxury as to forget the world, not even for a single evening. So, while others had their night off, he remained on guard. He always did.  
"You are an actual angel, you know that?"  
She smiled at him, despite the music which drowned all else out, and he returned her smile, unable to hear her words over the music but seeing by her expression that she understood the intention behind what he helped organize.  


Briefly squeezing his arm in thanks, she set out to confront her own demons.  
Those demons that told her she had no place there - or anywhere - those that did their best to convince her that there were monsters in the world long before the kaiju, and that she was one of them. The memory of K-day didn't invade her thoughts as much as it was always there, a ghost she could neither forget not confront.  
_What kind of person would have laughed? What kind of person would struggle to feel anything again? You didn't love them, Alice. You used them. And you know it is true. If anyone knew what you're like, who you **truly** are, they would run...as they should._  
But Alice clenched her teeth and refused to budge. _Not this again. I can't be going back to this._  
She knew all too well that sometimes the hardest battles were invisible, the battles that one had to fight just to set foot outside their door. The battles that had to be won just to reach out. Knowing that helped...but only sometimes, and only so much.  


A lean, blonde woman smiled at her from across the room - hesitantly, she smiled in return. Perhaps tonight would not be as bad as she suspected. Perhaps she could make some friends, some connection, _something_. Not until she saw all those people together did it occur to her how painfully she missed that.  
_How long can you be alone, Alice?_  
You have to take the first step, somewhere.  
A friendly brush of someone's fingers against her arm as they introduced themselves should not feel that overwhelming.  
Or, perhaps, tonight was a mistake.

 

 

Hermann looked up from his report to double-check the formula on the blackboard, finding that it - once again- didn't match.  
How could he be so careless?  
With gritted teeth he amended the calculations.  
A grating, intruding sound of a knock on the door nearly made him throw the papers in his hands. With great effort, Hermann focused on his breathing, forcing his hands to still.  
"Yes?"  
A laboratory technician poked their head through the door, discomfort written plain across their face.  
"Is...doctor Geiszler here? There has been an accident with Tank 5..."  
Herman closed his eyes, clinging desperately to the very frail remnants of calm.  
"No. He is...elsewhere. No doubt engaging in _something_ distasteful and unintelligent. Now if you will excuse me, there is _actual_ work to be done."  
He couldn't keep the bite out of his voice, and the technician ducked out, grateful for the dismissal, leaving Hermann alone in the silence, interrupted only by his uneven breathing.  
No. There was work to be done. He couldn't afford to care about anything else; and particularly not about what he imagined was happening right then in that godforsaken warehouse where Newton went, so eager for self-destruction... and the absolute ruin of everything Hermann thought he had, in the process.  
With near-superhuman effort, Hermann returned his gaze to his calculations.  


 

 

Newton didn't care. He didn't watch where he was going, he paid no attention to anyone around him. Hermann's words replayed in his mind with a merciless intensity.  
_'We did meet up a few times.'_  
And what did he expect? That he, for once, did something right? That there was now magically someone who would tolerate his company? That he made a _friend?_  
The bout of humorless laughter that escaped his lips surprised even him. He was the same fool he's always been, falling too fast and too hard, letting himself burn up and convincing himself he enjoyed the pain, only for everyone to leave him once he was reduced to ashes, once he no longer had a use.  
He could live under the illusion that his work in the PPDC was something different. It wasn't.  
Once... if... the war was over, everyone would go back home to someone. Except him. He had no one to go back to. He never did.  
No one wanted him. They wanted what he could do. They wanted whatever was behind his doctorates. Once the war was over, no one would need him.  
And still, he was doing whatever he could to help end the war, because, apparently, Newton was a glutton for pain.  
Blind to the crowd around him, the first thing he did when he arrived was to grab a bottle off the table.  
He vehemently ignored the voice that told him that he wasn't supposed to drink, that alcohol didn't play well with his meds - the voice that he assumed was his conscience, which sounded suspiciously like Tendo. Maybe even like Hermann.  
"Well maybe I want it to - whatever - ?"  
He muttered half-heartedly, unheard over the music. He was too tired to argue against all the things in him he knew he ought to argue against. All the things too-familiar, the things he was tired of battling.  
Most of all, he wanted to drown out that part of him which mockingly questioned whether he truly wanted the war to end.  
Whether he was prepared to be alone again.  
_The war isn't even ending and you're already losing the one friend you made._  
Friend. Or...whatever it was. Whatever he hoped it could be.  
Could have been. Before Hermann had to come along with his perfectly boring theorems and actually functional conversation skills.  
The alcohol was tasteless, except for the burning in his throat.

His mind, unprompted, returned to Hermann.  
Trading insults was still talking. He hated it much less than he hated the day the words would cease.  
And he knew it would come. It always did.  
He thought Alice liked him, too, when she listened to his theories in the cafeteria, with genuine interest, and didn't once tell him to shut up or...move to his own side of the lab.  
That made no sense.  
  
Newton just didn't know how to keep people. The day would always come when they'd just...had enough of him. One overexplanation too many. One too many jokes he didn't get. Whatever it was, people never stayed. Not unless they wanted something from him.  
On good days he was above admitting it, even to himself, that there wasn't much he wasn't prepared to give in return for them to stay.  
And today wasn't a good day.  
He grimaced. Whatever it was in that bottle, it was disgusting.  


 

 

Alice's surprisingly successful conversation with the blonde woman - Helena, a J-tech engineer - was rudely interrupted by two things, near simultaneously.  
The first was doctor Newton Geiszler, taking a seat next to her on the discarded shipping crates and almost ending up in her lap. Even without the smell of alcohol that reached her nostrils, she could tell that something wasn't right; something the still mostly-full bottle in his hands could not explain alone.  
The second was Tendo Choi, whom she heard curse for the first time ever since meeting him. He looked absolutely exasperated, following after the biologist like a shadow. When his gaze landed on Alice, relief and anxiety somehow simultaneously blossomed in his eyes.  
He approached them, muttering something that Alice missed but sounding relieved. His hand was shielding his headset, and it seemed as if he was listening to something of importance. His next words were directed at Alice, and not half as comforting.  
"Damn it. He really wasn't supposed to drink..." he told Alice with no small amount of disapproval - almost guilt - in his voice, and then spoke up, clearly talking to someone on the other end of the line instead. "Yes, I know. I'll be there in five. I'll just have to. Yes, okay. I'm on my way." He looked at Alice, swallowing the remainder of his words. She decided no to pry. Instead, she answered his silent plea.  
"I'll...keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn't do anything stupid."  
"He already did," replied the chief technician trough clenched teeth. "He wasn't supposed to... Look, just...don't let him drink, okay? He's not supposed to. Just make sure he doesn't drink anymore."  
She nodded firmly, confused but counting on an explanation once Tendo dealt with whatever demanded his attention at present.  
The friendly blonde technician slipped silently from her seat and walked away.  


"You've been seeing Hermann," Newton slurred, leaning forward as he attempted to focus on her face. "And that's fine, that's okay." Everything in his voice betrayed that it was the exact opposite of that. "But I can..." he blinked; his next words were much quieter. Whatever Alice expected him to say, it wasn't that.  
"You could do whatever you want, with me."  
She looked at him, but he failed to register the look of horror on her face, continuing instead:  
"You'll see, anything. Just...try, try...not leaving." He laughed weakly.  
The implications of his statement made her clench her teeth. Even if she had misunderstood - which she hoped she did - she doubted he would be happy with the words leaving his lips right then, once he was sober.  
"You're drunk. We met only weeks ago." Her tone was clipped.  
"Not much time when the world's ending." He smiled - a one-sided grin, with too little humor and too much resigned acceptance. "Not that time would change anything. Not for the better, at least." He laughed again, and she grabbed his arm, firmly deciding to get him away from the party, and somewhere he would instead be safe.  
Completely oblivious to her attempts, or misinterpreting them, he leaned closer to her, and looked at her with something in his eyes which could be described as a sort of desperate, alcohol-fueled adoration.  
"And I'm not...drunk. Not... like that. This only...I just had...It was only..." Sighing in frustration, he gave up on explaining. "This-" he lifted a bottle to show her, laughing weakly "-only makes it so much easier. Can't feel a thing really... You can..."  
Fighting nausea at that point, she grabbed the bottle from his hand to leave it behind.  
"We're going, Newton." She said in a clipped tone. Clearly misinterpreting her words, his face lit up.  
She put an arm around his shoulders to help him maneuver the poorly-lit hallways back to the actually inhabited parts of the complex, leaving the deafening beat of the outdated music behind. It was surprisingly easy, given that she was not only much taller than him, but that he also offered absolutely no resistance.  
The implications of everything he said settled in her stomach like lead, and refused to go away as she lead him through the maze of hallways up to the door of his room. There was no music anymore, nothing but the sound of their breathing, the occasional rustle of clothing as she readjusted her grip on his arms, and the unending torrent of quiet confessions from Newton's lips. Some of it was in English, but most of it Alice almost _wished_ she couldn't understand.  
_If I understood even a third of that correctly...God. You deserve so much better than that._  
The words that spilled from his lips almost the entire way - those she understood - were words she couldn't imagine anyone saying in the light and sober, but not for the reasons one might expect.  
Most of them were about loneliness, some of them were pleas for her to stay, and offers of things one should never have to offer in exchange for simple human kindness.  
She took the keys from his hands and unlocked the door, guiding him inside the room and pausing only briefly to take in the chaos that littered every available surface; reports, samples, empty wrappers of energy bars, discarded clothing, books, at least two tangled pairs of headphones and a myriad of dirty coffee mugs and disposable cups.  
She wanted to run - and that had nothing to do with the chaos. She wanted to leave Newton and his wounding, raw sincerity behind, his admissions of affection, to run away in the same way she ran from herself, from her own loneliness that dripped too familiar from his lips, in different words but there.  
There was nothing pretty in this, nothing dignified in the thoughts he spoke which she was certain he would regret come morning.  
A part of her, the part she was absolutely horrified by, wanted to stay.  
She turned away, everything in her screaming to run, because if she stayed a moment longer she wasn't sure she would ever again be able to walk away.  
_I don't **want to** care._  
There was something that came with knowing someone like that, knowing someone's loneliness so intimately, seeing that desperation that everyone carried inside them bared. Something that bound you to them, made you unable to turn away, and unable to leave when they needed you, and Alice didn't want that.  
She never, ever wanted anyone to need her again. She never, ever wanted to face the moment that she knew would inevitably come, when she'd let them down. Leave them behind.  
_No. I'll only hurt you, and I don't want that._  
A part of her wanted to believe she had a choice.  
Looking down into Newton's eyes, seeing all the things there that one usually hid from others, she swallowed.  
The intensity of loneliness she saw there almost burned her, the kind that ended in self-destruction, the familiar kind she knew too well from the mirror, back when she allowed herself to burn for everyone else. To sacrifice her dreams for the family she didn't want, a life she resented, to make herself less so that someone else could have their dreams. Just so that she wouldn't be alone, wouldn't be left behind, wouldn't be the only one left without what everyone else expected her to have.  
It wasn't that she couldn't bring herself to care again. It was that she was terrified of it.  
That simple truth broke something, a realization her mind refused to accept until right then.  
She was terrified of making the same mistakes, of giving too much, being left with nothing but resentment, nothing but hurt and what-ifs while everyone expected her to smile.  
_Perhaps my idea of happiness is just different._  
His hand curled in the front of her jacket, loosely enough for her to pull away.  
"Please." His eyes were searching hers, the haze of alcohol there weakening but still present. "Please stay."  
His fingers gave a light tug on her jacket, almost hopeful. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to close the distance between them. It also went against everything in her.  
She swallowed dryly, her fingers closing around his wrist, gently pulling his hand away from her.  
Her freedom immortalized in colors, embedded in his skin under her fingertips, along with the otherwise invisible, hair-thin lines there which the colors hid from view but not from touch. His eyes flicked briefly to her fingers around his wrist, than back up, to fix on her face.  
"No. Not like this."  
She was looking into his eyes, unsure of what she was searching for there. But certain that she found it.  
"If you still feel the same tomorrow..." On instinct, she leaned forward, and touched her lips to his forehead instead, an inexplicable act of near-reverence, pulling back almost immediately. "Then yes. But not like this. You deserve so much better than this."  
She turned around, not pausing to look back, not even after she closed his door behind her and hurried away, fighting the urge to break into a run.  


 

 

Newton opened his eyes slowly, for the stabbing pain between his temples and the overwhelming nausea - something that hadn't happened in years. It took him a moment to register that he was in his room - and alone - and it took less than that for the icy tendrils of dread to spread through every inch of him as the fragmented memories of his relapse the night before flooded his mind with the simple realization;  
  
_I fucked up. Again. Badly this time._  
  



	9. Lex Parsimoniae

Hermann stared at the flickering LED display.

9:23

He had been staring at it for quite some time - since it read 8:54 to be exact - after he abandoned his futile attempts to get any work done for the day.  
He awoke that morning, finished every part of his usual routine, down to brewing a cup of weak black tea and cursing at the prospect of wrestling with his clothing, given that the everpresent dull ache which gripped his leg and spread up his spine seemed distinctly _less dull_ that morning.  
He blamed the weather, really.  
That, and his inability to sleep the previous night despite half a stack of exceedingly boring reports and two cups of unsweetened chamomile tea. As precious - and therefore expensive - as it was, he had _two_ cups, and it _didn't help_.  
It was downright rude.

9:24

Newton still didn't show.  
There was no tell-tale booted footsteps against the rusty grate floor, no ratty leather jacket thrown carelessly in the general direction of the coat hanger and still somehow miraculously remaining on it. No migraine-inducing music. No Newton Geiszler.

9:25

Hermann swallowed, his eyes burning with the strain of staring at the bright, flickering display.  
  
Of course Newton wouldn't show up to the lab today. After all, he did see the two of them, embracing, clumsily making their way to Newton's room under the effects of what was likely a considerable amount of alcohol.  


Hermann's fingers pressed into his thigh in a futile, instinctive attempt to ease the ache in his leg. Why the hell did it have to act up now? He had enough reminders of all the things he didn't want to think about without also being reminded of all the exact ways he struggled with simple everyday things as well. His other hand gripped his cane, fingers closing around it tightly.  
_Why_ did he have to think about it, instead of focusing on his equations in peace as he ought to?  
Equations however, for perhaps the first time in his life, failed to interest Hermann Gottlieb.  
His one haven from the pandemonium of the world, for some inexplicable reason, paled in comparison to that very pandemonium.  
He tried to ignore the foreign-yet-horribly-familiar knot firmly lodged on the inside of his ribcage, somewhere in the general vicinity of his lungs.  
There were possibilities to account for with the latest data, there were calculations he ought to redo, and yet all he could focus on was the pain, and that singular memory of the previous night, an entirely unwanted image which nonetheless refused to leave him alone.  
The way Alice's arm was draped across Newton's shoulders, the palm of her other hand pressed against the exact center of his chest when he leaned against her.  
The way Newton smiled up at her, looking almost as lost as Hermann felt right then, frozen in place, having stumbled upon that scene entirely by accident, awake in those early hours only due to the incessant ache steadily crawling up his spine. He was almost, _almost_ thankful for it, because now he _knew_.  
Hermann swallowed, trying very hard not to let his thoughts wander any further, not to try to reconstruct what was probably happening once they reached Newton's room.  
He looked away from the display, straightened a stack of books on his desk to give his hands something to do, when he heard a soft knock on the door.  


His eyes shot up only to meet the steel-gray ones of Alice Williams, standing in the doorway like a deer caught in the headlights.  
"Oh. Good morning, Hermann."  


He returned his gaze to the already immaculately arranged stack of books, aligning their spines further. His throat burned with something he couldn't name.  
"Doctor Williams."  
A slight frown touched her features, and she stepped into the room with feather-light steps, looking much like someone who was afraid they were trespassing.  
"Do you know, perhaps..." She stopped herself mid-sentence when her eyes fell on his face. "Is there...something wrong?"  
He didn't look up, eyes glued to the spine of a book on advanced statistics.  
"No. Everything is perfectly fine."  
He hated, _hated_ , that he couldn't keep the - however slight - tremble out of his voice.  
Much like decades ago, on a school playground, when Hermann for the first time felt that the entire world conspired to exclude him. He felt similar to that, right then.  
She took another step towards his desk, uncertainty evident in every move.

"Hermann, have I...done something to offend you?"  
He avoided her eyes still, switching to his best lecturer voice, sharper than intended.  
"No. Of course not. As I said already, everything is in perfect order."  


She was now right in front of his desk, eyes concerned and her hair falling freely like a halo around her face.  
The perfume she was wearing - slight notes of sandalwood and basil - was suddenly overwhelming, an intrusion into his space that he ought not allow. Her entire presence, from her pale grey eyes to the rustle of her perfectly ironed suit jacket and that damnable perfume, felt like too much. It was insulting, not to leave him to his solitude. What gave her the right to intrude into his life like that, to occupy a place in his thoughts she did nothing to earn, a place that ought to be occupied by anything else, the impending end of the world first and foremost?  
A step closer. Her fingers brushed idly against the corner of his desk, disturbing a stack of papers he'd so carefully arranged.  
Hermann was on his feet, without recollection of when it was exactly that he stood up to face this new and agonizing intrusion into his perfect and organized world.  


With him now standing, she was too close, entirely too close, an infuriating trespasser into his solace that he ought not tolerate. He could see all the things he shouldn't, like the different hues of gray in her eyes, and the way the fluorescent lights outlined the stray strands of hair falling around her face in silver.  
She felt like an intruder. Like a challenge. Like something that shouldn't be there if he wanted to preserve his life and sanity. She felt exactly like the ache inside his chest.  
He could think of nothing but the paths he imagined Newton's fingers traveled on her skin, and it left turmoil in his chest in its wake, the kind of agony he couldn't explain. He could see the way her eyes briefly flicked to his lips.

Through the pandemonium that raged in his head, he understood that _right then_ was one of those moments, the ones that could change everything, the ones he always regretted missing.  
He was dimly aware that what he faced right then was one of the leverage points of his universe, one of those points the order of his life depended on. It would have taken one single push, and his world would rearrange itself around him, fall into a new order, the pieces forming something entirely _different_.  
If Hermann only _dared_ , if he only had the courage to reach for the things he wanted despite himself - if he only believed, for one second, that he deserved them.

Only, he knew that he _didn't_.  
It was ridiculous, all of it, and he knew that.  
He wanted, more than anything, to kiss her. It was illogical, and selfish, and undeniable. Inexplicable, and impossible. He wanted with unparalleled desperation to somehow reclaim what he did not have in the first place. If he only closed the distance between them, those few inches of empty space... it was at the same time the hardest and the easiest thing he could imagine doing, one simple thing that would change _everything_ , throw him off his course, rip away any certainty and leave him weightless in the emptiness of possibility; a terrifying, exhilarating _nothing_ that could become anything, everything. Everything he wanted and feared, everything he spent almost all his life hiding from, and he yearned for it with an almost self-destructive desperation.  
All it would take was...  


The door opened, shattering his thoughts and restarting time that had treacherously stopped without him noticing.  
Whatever it was between them had ended, whatever fragile possibility there was, it was there no longer.  
The world snapped back into its rightful place, with rules and obligations and duty; and tired, bloodshot eyes of Newton Geiszler watching them from the doorway.

He cleared his throat, without looking at Alice, and held up her identification card.  
"You, uh...left this at my place last night."  
Hermann felt something inside him shatter at the words.  
Newton looked everywhere but at Alice.  
Without a word, she walked over to him and took the card from his hand with only murmured thanks before walking out of the lab with quick steps.  
Silence fell for the first time since Hermann could remember, without the chatter or the music, without anything left to say.  
Hermann could clearly feel the empty space she left behind her; it ached the same way failure did.  
He didn't look at Newton.  



	10. Truth

_There were ashes falling around her, soft ashes covering everything; even her footfalls were quieted by the thick blanket of ash. It was still warm when it touched her cheeks, the warmth in it a promise of fire. She raised her fingers to her face, finding tears there she did not remember crying._  
  
_Curious._  
  
_She looked up then, and met it face to face, the monstrous form in the ash looking at her, standing perfectly still with its alien eyes trained on her face; they were blue. They were familiar._  
  
_'Alice'._  
  
Alice bolted upright, her jacket sliding off her shoulders, her fingers instinctively coming up to rub the sore spot on her cheek where the reports strewn across her desk had left a mark as she slept. Her computer had long since gone into sleep mode, a single blue light, blinking incessantly, being the only thing illuminating the semi-darkness. She frowned, tapping a key impatiently and then trying to blink the pain away as the harsh, cold light of the screen flooded her eyes.  
_1:24_  
_1 unread message._  
Her frown deepened - falling asleep while working by no means left a good impression. But going days on end without proper sleep tended to do that, and she knew she had no one to blame but herself.  
_And that damned dream._  
"Alice?"  
A knock at her door tore her from her thoughts, and she heard the familiar voice of the biologist calling out to her.  
"Alice, are you there? I can come back later if now's not a good time."  
She realized it was likely his knocking that woke her. It was a relief to know that the thing in her dreams didn't start talking to her after all. The last thing she needed was for her guilt to have a voice.  
_It's Newton. It's just Newton._  
"A moment!" she shouted, running her fingers through her hair to deal with the worst of the tangles, before leaving her chair to open the door.  
There stood Newton Geiszler, nearly flinching as her eyes focused on his face.  
He recovered quickly, speaking with a confidence he clearly did not truly have.  
"Uh, yeah, I just wanted to talk if you...if you have a moment, that is. I know you're terribly busy with the, er, the reports and everything but..." He trailed off, looking up at her expectantly, cracking the knuckles of his right hand; either out of habit or as an attempt to ground himself. Perhaps both.  
She watched him for a moment, as if trying to read him. Then, realizing she was likely rude, stepped aside to invite him in.  
"By all means, please."  
Gingerly, he stepped into her quarters, eyeing the scattered folders and the impressive number of empty coffee mugs piled on her desk.  
"I wanted to apologize, actually," he swallowed. "For, um, for last night."  
His voice was artificially cheery, obviously trying to lighten the situation neither of them felt comfortable in. He didn't quite succeed.  
She remained quiet, not quite sure what to say to that, choosing to allow him to continue instead.  
"I...yeah, well, really went overboard with the, um, _everything_ and I..." he looked up, judging by her expression that he was likely rambling, so he opted for simplicity. "I really am sorry. I...never wanted you - or anyone - to see that. I don't know what came over me-" she raised an eyebrow. It was at best a half-truth.  
"Tendo said I should make it clear that I-" catching himself, he threw his hands upwards like a man deflecting an accusation "- _not_ that I'm apologizing because Tendo told me to, but I- I do sometimes need to be, uh..." he swallowed, looking up at her eyes and obviously losing his train of thought "...told," he finished lamely.  
Both were quiet for a while, the biologist looking as if there was something else weighing on him, the advisor waiting patiently to hear what it was, for the most part because she herself didn't know what to say.  
_What do you say to someone whose loneliness reached the point of bleeding through to be seen?_  
_That we're all secretly like that?_  
_But I'm the worst thing you could have chosen, Newton. I don't know how not to ruin that which I care for the most._  
_Perhaps we have that in common._  
The silence was unbearable, heavy with all the unspoken things which pushed against Newton's lips demanding to be told, so he spoke up again - even though he'd _promised_ himself he'd leave as soon as he'd apologized to prevent _just that_ \- against his better judgment, and contrary to every piece of advice he received from the ever-patient chief J-Tech officer.  
"I, uhm..." he swallowed, needlessly adjusting bracelets around his left wrist so he wouldn't have to look into her eyes. "I wanted to ask, about what you said..."  
She remained quiet, waiting for him to continue.  
"About how, if I still felt the same, after..." he cleared his throat. "Did you mean that?"  
He tried his best to sound casual, to conceal his voice nearly breaking on the last words, to force a laugh; he focused on that so much that he forgot he was trying to avoid her eyes, and looked up.  
She was quiet for a long moment, studying his face which was entirely too open, entirely too hopeful. And again, she felt the ghost of the ashes of her dreams on her skin, and the prospect of being left alone was suddenly terrifying.  
"I did," she replied, perhaps too quickly; a simple, straightforward answer, her eyes never leaving Newton's. The answer he hoped for, the answer he didn't expect, the answer he didn't know what to do with, because for someone to accept _him_ wasn't something he allowed himself to imagine, anymore.  
He blinked.  
"Well, I uh..." he bit his lip, more out of nervous habit than anything else, as he glanced away and then back at her; a poor attempt of rebooting reality to see if it really _was_ real. Everything in him screamed not to speak, not to allow anyone the chance to ruin him again. As usual, Newton ignored it.  
"I do. Feel the same way, I mean."  
It had a certain finality to it, like saying something forbidden. A part of him reveled in it.  
All of a sudden, he felt pinned under her gaze, like the very first time he ever met her eyes. Again he recalled, for some unknown reason and with startling clarity, the glint of neon lights as they reflected off his scalpel, before he would take something apart to learn how it functioned, peeling layer after layer away until he knew it inside and out, until nothing unknown remained. He shuddered at the thought of that kind of familiarity, of being so known. It was terrifying, and exhilarating, he feared and wanted it in equal measure, and Newton was quite certain it wouldn't be good for him. But he had quite a history of doing things that weren't good for him. He swallowed again, his throat suddenly dry, pinned under the ice of her gaze, the air between them charged with something he could not name. Was it hunger? Was it something more? He couldn't tell, and a part of him was telling him that he didn't care anyway - the world was going to hell. Whatever it was, he decided, he'd take it, so he could lie to himself later that he meant something to someone, once. That taking himself apart had a purpose. It was the kind of lies he was best at. It came with practice.  
He received no reply - for the space of several heartbeats, Newton was unsure, reality threatening to unravel and spiral into fear as it sometimes would, when he'd realize he'd made a mistake of some kind. And he made mistakes often.  
Then, Alice's lips were on his.  



End file.
